


The Lovely Beast

by kimigross



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Arguing, Blood, Communication, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Emetophobia, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, Graphic depiction of life-threatening injury, Kink Discovery, M/M, Multi, Other, Porn With Plot, Sexual Intercourse, Switching, Trans Male Character, established mutsurie, graphic description of physical trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimigross/pseuds/kimigross
Summary: Tooru remembers doing this with Sasaki, expecting how a talk would turn out, just wishing he could skip ahead where everything is resolved. But actually getting down and dealing with it, dealing with them, has helped a lot more than just riding it out.Last night, Tooru had said something to Urie without having thought it through. And the ensuing confusion and anxiety could have easily been avoided."I think we should take a break."Fucking hell.





	1. Love On The Brain

**Author's Note:**

> *bear crawls out from the shadows*  
> I graduate in three weeks here's a multichap  
> *bear crawls backwards, into the shadows*

Tooru replaced the old crappy curtains in his (now his and Urie’s) bedroom with filmy blue fabric, so that the morning sun could be painted on their walls in sapphires and greys, in slices across their flesh and their bedsheets. When it’s rainy and overcast the fabric still shimmers, painting a better light on the dullness outside. 

It’s the first thing Tooru sees in the morning. He pauses, still bleary and limp, and looks at the window as Urie grumbles awake for their run. Seeing the colour over Urie’s shoulder does something to him, but he isn’t sure what. He frowns and lets his eyes slide shut.

“Tooru,” Urie pokes him in the belly and the moment passes. He moans, realizing he’s slipped back to sleep and Urie’s already dressed. “Up we get.” 

He turns his face into the pillow and grimaces. He’s cozy.

“Come on. Saiko wants us to get her espresso on the way back.” Urie nudges him again, in the back of the head. With what Tooru thinks is his nose.

That gets him up. He sits up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes. “Why does she want espresso?” 

“She’s becoming the coffee snob we can only dream of being,” Urie sighs, with the air of someone who has just lost a loved one. “So sad.”

Tooru grunts and rolls until his legs flop over the side. 

 

Summer in the city leaves all but the pavement dehydrated and grumpy. Tooru and Urie bitch about and agree upon no less than five things that need to be fixed around the neighborhood not seven minutes into their run. By the time they make it to their turnaround point, they’re both drenched in sweat and thoroughly salty.

Tooru falls against the guardrail overlooking the highway, thighs quaking. Urie follows, leaning his hip on the metal and watching the sunrise with him. 

It’s very peaceful, very normal for them. 

Tooru sideyes Urie, takes stock of the serious, regal face, the pouted cherry red mouth, the thick upper lip and dark lashes. 

Are they talking about it?

The silence between them, normally calm and comfortable, is tinged with something they really should have settled the night before. 

Tooru goes first, treading lightly. “I don’t want to fight anymore.” 

Urie’s response comes softly, rumbled from where it was waiting under his jaw. “We aren’t.” 

“I don’t like the way it ended last night,” Tooru says, louder than he would have. They’re going on two years now. He isn’t mumbling anymore and putting his needs second to what Urie expects of him. “I want to talk about it.” 

“We can talk, baby.” Urie looks over at him, finally. He’s so soft and sad that Tooru almost breaks. 

The air feels very thin. “Okay.” 

Tooru remembers doing this with Sasaki, expecting how a talk would turn out, just wishing he could skip ahead where everything is resolved. But actually getting down and dealing with it, dealing with  _ them,  _ has helped a lot more than just riding it out. 

Last night, Tooru had said something to Urie without having thought it through. And the ensuing confusion and anxiety could have easily been avoided. 

_ I think we should take a break.  _ Fucking hell. 

There are several simple facts Tooru knows about himself, as basic as knowing his name. He is a transsexual male in a very fulfilling monogamous romantic partnership with a man. While he and said partner have not always seen eye to eye, circumstances of late night sparring, actual talking, and probably a few incidents of trauma bonding led to them realizing their feelings for one another. These facts Tooru can say for certain are true and remain to be that way. 

The other set of facts Tooru can say about himself also wind down a different path. Through incidents of gaming long into the night, compulsive snacking, and mixing drinking with crossdressing, he developed a very fulfilling friendship with one of his squadmates. 

Due to the development of what can’t possibly be romantic feelings for said squadmate, he misinterpreted his newfound attraction as a need for space from his partner. This is not what it was. 

Urie had been surprised. Then upset. Overall not thrilled that Tooru wanted a break because he had the hots for Saiko as well as Urie. 

But they didn’t get to where they are by not talking to each other. So they talked. 

The railing creaks as Urie leans more of his weight on it and shifts his feet. “So it’s not me, it’s you.” 

“Absolutely. You’ve done nothing to make me want a break, and now that I’ve thought about it I can’t think of any reason for us to take one.” Tooru shakes out a breath. “I just- I want to figure this out.” 

Urie smiles. “Figure out why you have a crush on Saiko.” 

Tooru feels his face heat. “Yes. That.” 

“While you’re in a relationship with me.” Urie clarifies. 

“Yes.” 

They’re silent. Tooru feels himself start to slip, his rationality unreliable as his thoughts spiral down the longer Urie looks at the sunrise with a blank expression.

“Are you, uh,” Tooru says, half afraid of Urie’s reaction. “Are you mad?”  _ He’s mad. He’s gonna break up with you. At least then you’ll have a chance with Saiko. You shouldn’t be looking at other people anyway. Your fault.  _

Every second Urie takes to choose the right words seems to crawl by. Tooru counts them to try to calm himself down. 

Urie shakes his head. “No, not mad, just…” He shrugs, pulling away from the guardrail with a twisted mouth. “...I mean, it’s not  _ ideal,  _ but I’ll get over it.” 

“I don’t want you to have to get over anything.” 

“You just told me you like somebody else,” Urie grunts. “What else am I supposed to do? Roll with it?”

“I-” it occurs to Tooru, as he sees the first upset tears slide down Urie’s cheeks, that he doesn’t know Urie’s anxiety. And that he  _ had,  _ in some silver-lining way, expected Urie to roll with it. He forgets, sometimes, that for every time he doubts what Urie feels for him, there’s a deeper-buried part of him that mirrors it. What Urie must think of him now.

“- I guess I just assumed you would,” Tooru finishes lamely, thinking he could probably step over the guardrail right now. 

Urie wipes his eyes. “Not cool.” His voice is perfectly level, ignoring his own tears. 

“No,” Tooru grinds out. “No it isn’t.”

Urie sniffs, breathes until his eyes clear and he can look at Tooru properly. “I really, really love you, alright?”

“I know, baby,” Tooru folds into Urie’s arms and settles into the nausea churning his insides. “I love you too. But we should take a rain check on the rest of this.”

Urie snorts. “Saiko probably wants her espresso.” 

“Ridiculous.”

“Spending too much time with Tsukiyama.”

“Or not enough. If she hasn’t been around him enough to figure out what a weirdo he is she’ll still want to compare coffee notes.”

“Lock ‘em in starbucks for a week.”

“Let’s do that.”

“Let’s not.” Urie throws an arm around his shoulders and starts them walking back home.

Urie kisses him on the temple just as the last traces of morning chill are chased from the city corners and they have to make double time back to beat the heat.

 

A large amount of Saiko’s body mass in the morning is bedclothes. Often she’d be too tangled to do much else but tear herself off the bed and trudge down wearing a fitted sheet. Throughout the morning, it was common to see her gradually shedding layers as she had more coffee, slightly more tolerant of the world around her the more she consumed. 

Urie sees the appeal. But he didn’t get to where he is today to lag behind and refuse to catch up with the day.

By the time Urie beats Tooru through the front door, she’s still in the first stages, wrapped up tight in a quilt and half under the kotatsu.

Urie can’t do much but stare judgmentally. Saiko stares back from her puddle on the floor.

Neither of them say anything. Urie’s nose twitches. 

“...It’s august,” he finally gets out.

“I’m cold,” she counters immediately.

“But it’s  _ august. _ ”

“I’m still  _ cold, _ ” She says, slightly louder.

“So you dragged out the fucking kotatsu?” Tooru thumps down through the doorway, gasping, Saiko’s espresso clutched in his hand. 

“I won’t say it again,” Her moonlike eyes fix on him. He huffs and goes into the kitchen, turning away from Saiko’s enthusiastic greeting to Tooru.

He feels completely, utterly fucking numb. He taps on the faucet and is tempted to stick his head under it until he feels normal again. He sticks a glass under the stream and stares as it fills. 

Tooru and Saiko. He braces his hands on the counter. 

“Oh, you beauty. Smell it, Mucchan, it’s to  _ die  _ for-”

“It’s syrup.”

“Did you expect anything less of me?”

“Don’t give it to her,” Urie calls over his shoulder. Tooru and Saiko.

For a second he makes himself imagine it. Tooru, shorts that ride up and a baggy shirt with sneakers and black socks, the kind that he wears to bed in the winter. Saiko, painted nails and razor-sharp, lazy grin. Curly hair and one blood red eye, shorter than Tooru but more presence. Thin, dark fingers between her soft, white ones.

He can picture it. They’d have fun. The best of friends. 

He registers eventually that his glass is overflowing and shuts off the tap, turning around and taking a long sip. 

Saiko’s belly down on the floor, much more animated with the arrival of her best friend. Opening the small bottle and huffing it. 

Urie doesn’t feel angry. Just… off kilter. Disturbed. Like he’d just watched a slightly terrifying documentary, or come off a meeting that seemed more like orchestrating a murder than exterminating pests. Like he’s been given something new to think about that he isn’t sure how he feels about yet.

He should feel upset, shouldn’t he? His boyfriend suddenly wants someone who isn’t him. 

Well. Tooru isn’t someone who  _ wants.  _ He… considers. It took them years of uncomfortable tolerance and confusion and partnership and finally talking to each other to figure out they loved each other. It snuck up on them. This isn’t like that.

Urie knows that Tooru doesn’t feel attraction for just anybody. He knows that Tooru must have been gathering courage for weeks, maybe months, cradling a new realization like a bomb that he knew could seriously fuck with his relationship. He must have worked himself up and prayed for Urie not to take it the wrong way, probably even considered just not telling him. 

Would that have been better?

Urie crosses his arms, studies Saiko. She turns away from him to look at the stairs, where a visibly rumpled Aura, followed by Hige, are making their way down. She’s dragged herself up to kneeling, the swell of her calves pressing tight against her hamstrings. Toes turned inward where she sits on her heels.

Urie feels empty as he stares at Saiko. Her bright, piquant face comes into view as Tooru gets up and comes into the kitchen, her cotton blue eyes following him as he comes back to Urie.

She’s pretty.

_ Not as pretty as me,  _ he thinks dully. He gulps down the rest of his water and shuts the hell up like a good boy.

 

To say Mutsuki felt secure in his relationship would not be correct. 

Every time he repeated the situation to himself-  _ I'm figuring out my feelings for Saiko, while still in a fulfilling relationship with Urie _ -it made less and less sense. 

_ Saiko is not your partner.  _

Urie had backed off. Noticeably.

“Are you two fighting?” Aura whispered to him after a briefing, Urie in the front and Mutsuki in the back, herding their little gaggle out the door. 

“No,” He says simply. No room for interpretation. Aura backs down with a soft  _ Oh. _

If they were obvious enough for the kids to notice, there was going to be a problem.

There was already a problem.

It was going on two weeks after Tooru had told Urie he liked Saiko. And Urie was avoiding him like the plague. 

Tooru craved Urie. Undeniably. He wanted him in every way he could ever be. He loved his face, his voice, his scent, his beautiful brain and all the scars and discrepancies that came with it. He was happy sleeping in bed with him, cooking with him, riding him hard enough that the headboard smashed the wall. His love for Urie is bedrock, sharp and solid and permanent- the mere fact that they got together at all is proof they are willing to work through anything to get to each other.

He also, in a different way, had fallen for Saiko.

Over the years, Saiko had awestruck him with her attitude, her demeanor, her devil-may-care exterior and the scared girl inside. They bonded through binging and purging, through late-night bedroom-floor talks and after missions in the years before Urie cared enough to comfort him. 

The way he learned Saiko was not the way he learned Urie. It was  _ easy. _ Urie came to him in hard-won fits and spurts, in frustration and ardour, in rough kisses that melted his resistance and the first night they slept spooned together, Urie’s hand creeping over his hip like he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch. He’d fought, he’d been  _ determined  _ to get Urie out of his shell.

Saiko was… natural. 

Liking her was easy as slipping his fingers through hers and feeling the answering squeeze without fail. 

As easy as taking a breath of her raspberry shampoo.

At the front of the pack, Saiko tugged Urie’s sleeve and pointed at something on the file folder. Bent together, it was comical how opposite they were to each other. Their weird friendship and opposing palettes for pretty much anything.

Soft, comfortingly feminine, candy pink and blue, chin rounded out by pudge.

Sharp, pretty-boy mouth, striped shirt and smooth, tired eyes.

Trying to make up the words to explain what he feels is too hard. He thinks,  _ I wish I was both of them,  _ and leaves it at that.

“We heading back?” Hige drawls at Urie’s back.

“Yes. You know your regimens for this week, I suggest you get started. I’ll see you all tonight.” Urie takes the file from Saiko and takes his phone out of his pocket.

Tooru pauses. “You’re not coming with us?”

“I’ve got another meeting,” he throws over his shoulder as he stalks down another hallway.

He looks exhausted. Not getting enough sleep in their bed at night.

Something inside Tooru breaks, very quietly, and guilt blooms in his gut.  _ Your fault. _ He starts running after Urie.

“Whoa, Mucchan, what's the rush?” Saiko calls after him, but he ignores her. Saiko can wait.

Urie rounds a corner up ahead, and Tooru shouts after him.

“Urie!” Tooru runs to catch up and latches onto his bicep to stop him. “Love, I-”

“I really do have a meeting.” Urie mutters, not turning towards him. Tooru whines.

“I’m done. I won’t do this anymore if it's hurting you. Kuki.” his mouth closes in a trembling line. Urie looks back with wide eyes. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

“But-” His gaze darts back to the retreating group. “You and Saiko-”

“Fuck it. I miss you too much.” Tooru drags him down into a kiss that burns, relief and the acidity of anxiety. Urie resists being pulled down by his tie but melts into his lover's body, natural as breathing.

The kiss flares, and with it the spike of heat in their bellies. Urie crowds him against his chest and lords the few centimeters he has on Tooru over him- wide shoulders curving in, arms wrapped tight around him so there's nothing he can do but let Urie kiss him, struggling compulsively in the tight grip. 

Urie’s tongue slips from his mouth, dragging across his lower lip. Tooru stutters out a sound, wrung out of him by the squeeze of Urie’s embrace.  _ Inside me. I want- _

Their eyes meet as Urie pulls away, panting and searching. 

He’s poking Tooru through his pants. Tooru would feel like mocking him for it if he wasn’t so close to soaking through his.

“I’ll be home in three hours, tops,” he breathes, as ready and aching as Tooru is.

“I don’t wanna wait that long,” he whispers. 

“You’re gonna go home,” Tooru shakes, because he's using his  _ First-Class Squad Leader Urie _ voice that makes him laugh in any situation other than the one they’re in. “And you’re gonna keep thinking about what happened here. And you’re gonna go to our bedroom and wait for me there.”

If either of them take the lead, it's usually Tooru. But he feels… shaken. Like Urie describes after Tooru’s salved the worst of his rope burns and asked him how it starts-  _ You loosen me, shake me up and make me want it. You interrupt me. And then you put me back together. You make me yours. _

He shivers. He’ll play along. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

_ Yours. _

Urie kisses him one more time and lets him go back to the group, wet between the legs.

Saiko sneaks glances at him from the passenger's seat on the way home. Like she can somehow read his thoughts, smell Urie on his skin.

Tooru bites his lip and keeps looking at the road. 

He promised. It hurts Urie. So he won't try anymore.

It's not like he ever told her anyway. 

 

“What did you talk to Urie about?” Saiko asks him while they're setting the dinner table.

Tooru’s gut freezes. “Uh.”

Saiko’s stopped to stare at him, but he continues bustling and avoids her gaze. “Just some… stuff.”

He winces at himself.  _ Stuff. Jesus H Christ. _

“Dude,” She says flatly.

“Yeah. I know.” Tooru pinches the bridge of his nose and pats himself on the back for that one.  _ Stuff. You’re a goddamned genius, Mutsuki-san. _

“Was it about work?” Saiko asks, setting down the pot of curry in her hands.

“Uh- no, it was more of a,” Tooru walks into the kitchen and makes far more noise than necessary to grab the chopsticks. “-private thing, actually…”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

“I noticed you guys are fighting a little bit,” She murmurs.

“KIDS! DINNER!” He shouts up the stairwell. “No, we’re not fighting, It’s just a weird-” Tooru’s grip spasms and the chopsticks clatter to the ground. “Shit. Thing. That I don't think the team should know about.” 

“Why not?” Saiko scoffs, bends to pick up the chopsticks with him. “Like, we’re pretty much all we have left. Who else would you tell?”

Tooru finally locks eyes with her, flushed and anxious.

“Why not tell me?” She says, a cool smile pulling at her lips.

_ Why not. Why not. _

Tooru’s hand jerks back.  _ Oh Christ. _

 

Urie makes it home in three and a half hours, and it's obvious that he’s trying to keep the mood but failing. 

“Washuu chew you out?” Tooru asks, naked but for Urie’s sweatshirt on the bed. Urie bundles past him into the closet, his face tired and slack. The bedroom door shuts firmly behind him.

“Yeah. Couldn’t take it.” Tooru watches Urie undress, the methodical shedding of his CCG life, a pretty face for his boss to work into the ground. Tooru’s lip curls. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, curling up on his side, watching him step out of his pants. 

“It just never fucking stops.” he grits out. “It’s fine. It's only a matter of time before someone takes him out. Off mission or otherwise.”

Tooru doesn't know what to say. He’s still off kilter, craving Urie’s body. He’d stoked the thrumming warmth in his belly while getting ready, tying a delicate black choker around his neck, huffing Urie’s sweatshirt while he lay on the bed. 

Urie looks at him for a moment when he doesn’t respond, sighing deeply. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn't okay, I promised..” Urie grunts and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to take care of you. I wanted to make love to you and make you like it the way you make me like it.” He’s still pissed, and it makes his language less restrained. “While I was walking away I was imagining all the things I was gonna do to you.”

He leans down, puts his head on Tooru’s sternum. “I’m sorry. I'm really sorry.”

Tooru doesn't speak. 

Then, softly- “We can do you tonight, if that's what you want-”

Urie shakes his head. “No. I just wanna sleep.”

Tooru’s belly sours in disappointment. “Alright.”

Urie kisses him, cards a hand through his hair. Tooru frowns.

Later, he doesn’t make an effort to hold back his noise, or his squirming when he quietly takes care of himself in the dark. Urie’s probably asleep and can't hear him making his point- making his point four times- but it satisfies him anyway. 

The last rolls over him like a sigh, weak and wet. He tries to slow his breathing and pulls his hand off of himself, breaking a thread of wetness that snaps onto his belly. He’s so slick he can feel it when he closes his legs.

He lies back, breathing wet and heavy. Urie hasn’t moved. He rolls his head on the pillow, watching his back for a moment.

He huffs.

He goes to throw his feet over the side of the bed, his insides shifting as he starts to straighten up.  _ No? Okay. Fine. Whatever. _

“Are you done?” Urie rumbles beside him. Tooru freezes. 

He doesn’t say anything, but a little squeak is shocked out of him at the renewed flush of wet he can  _ feel  _ dripping out of him.

“Um,” he says eloquently. “Yes?”

“How did it feel?” Urie murmurs. 

“W-what?” 

“Do you feel  _ proud  _ of yourself?” Urie’s tone turns sour, and a hand closes vicelike around his knee, dragging him back into bed. Tooru stammers, but lets him. “Did it feel good to tease me like that, get yourself off when I'm right next to you?” 

“I-I didn’t know-” Tooru goes limp and lets Urie manhandle him, lip snagging between his teeth. His hands aren’t gentle, calluses and nails raking his thigh without a thought to how soft it may be. The hand pushes higher, and Tooru can't hold in a mangled shout when it  _ grabs _ him, dragging him closer by the flesh of his inner thigh. It fucking  _ hurts _ , but Urie must know, he knows how wet it makes him, and how the pain doesn't really seem like pain at all when it goes right to his snatch like that-

Urie regrips and rolls over, towards him, getting up on his knees, and something inside him is singing, burning, making him spread his legs and show Urie the mess between- _ yes, finally, finally, fuck me- _

Urie switches on the lamp on Tooru’s nightstand. Tooru’s legs flinch inwards.

Urie’s not looking at his face. 

Tooru reaches for him, tries to splay further and trying not to make it look like it. “Babe-” 

“Shh.” Urie puts one of his hands on Tooru’s belly. It stills him, makes his breath stop in his throat. He gently massages the softness there, and then slowly, painstakingly puts more weight on the heel of his hand, right above his pubic bone, until he’s up on his knees and pressing him hard into the bed. Tooru squirms viciously, and abruptly feels himself tear up. “Oh, fuck-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Urie murmurs, sharp eyes snapping up to him for the first time. He’s so pretty. So dangerous. His hand grinds into Tooru’s belly, as if he could put it through him, play him from the inside and make him like it. Tooru whimpers and shuts his eyes. He wants him to. 

“Tooru. Hey.” Urie’s been calling him. He hadn’t noticed. The mask is dropped, and Urie’s looking at him. “Colour?”

Tooru gulps. His throat feels sticky. “G-green.”

Urie stares at him. For a moment Tooru thinks something’s wrong- Urie’s never that still, never looks at him with such blankness in his eyes.

The pressure on his belly increases. He gasps. 

Urie shifts, eyes lowering again to Tooru’s snatch. Tooru makes himself look away, look up at the ceiling, because if Urie does anything else, he’s going to come. He screws his eyes shut. 

He feels Urie’s thighs hike up under his, and his hands twist in the sheets. The pressure deepens. Is Urie trying to crush him?

His eyes snap open. Urie’s pushing against him, rubbing his cock over his slit. Tooru tries to squirm but Urie’s grip is stronger than him. He grabs Urie’s shoulder, nails pinching in, his body taut and locked, staring down dumbly as Urie spreads his legs a little more, touches himself and rolls his hips, and suddenly-

Tooru thrashes, and Urie fucking  _ growls _ at him. He pushes and  _ presses  _ on him until it feels like there's no air, no noise, just Urie, latched onto him and holding him down like some kind of toy, and making him like it.

Tooru lets out a wavering moan. Urie pushes, one hand a vice grip on his thigh, the other pressing on his abdomen and pinning him down. His fingers flex, and the ropes in his arms stand out one by one as his cock pulses inside.

“Ahn, Oh--” Tooru’s head tips back against his pillow, doing his best to arch, but Urie holds him down, fucks him gently and shuts his eyes. Tips his head back and breathes heavy. Not paying attention to him.

Urie’s fingers curl in his belly rolls and he flinches. Abruptly the pace increases- Urie’s getting on top of him, pushing his legs up further and forcing his back to arch- Tooru doesn’t want to say he’s  _ mounting _ him but he thinks it, and he can’t help but get carried away by that, the thought that Urie’s treating him like a jizz rag, something he uses to relax after a long day at work, to fuck, to grab, and push and  _ breed- _

Tooru cries and thrashes further under his grip. “Fuck, Urie- Urie-  _ Fuck me _ -”

Urie slaps him. Hard. On the ass.

“Shut  _ up, _ ” he hisses. Tooru moans.

He resets his grip on Tooru’s belly fat and settles on top of him, inside him, more firmly. He slaps again, and Tooru jumps but doesn’t make a sound. 

The only way Urie could be more dominating was if he started to bite.

Tooru stares up at him, breathless and quiet. For the first time since asking a safeword, Urie looks him in the eye.

He slaps him again. Tooru flinches and his expression breaks, furrowed brow breaking to a desperate mouth. 

Deep inside, Urie twitches. He bites his lip and lowers his gaze.

Urie fucks him harder than he’s ever had.

He uses his weight and immobilizes him, keeping him in place with a hand, his teeth, his flickering eyes. It feels raw, and quiet, and powerful, and it drives startled, overwhelmed cries from Tooru’s mouth each time he fills him up.

He thinks he can feel Urie’s cock just under his skin, through membrane and muscle, rubbing the palm of the hand branded on his belly. The pleasure sits low and oily inside him, heightened every time Urie quickens his pace, rubs against him the right way. 

Urie groans like he’s been holding it in for hours, his voice all over the place. “Ohhh, Tooru-” his elbow shakes, tricep standing out as he pushes harder, the other hand on his hip releasing and going to his breast, rolling his nipple with no finesse between his thumb and index finger.

Tooru’s chin drops to his chest, eyes beginning to glaze and roll- he can't move, he can only just lay there and  _ take it _ , like Urie makes him-

Everything is suddenly very close and very  _ hot _ and he can't help it when Urie fucks him harder and he jerks back to life, fingers scrabbling at the headboard above him and Urie’s arm and his breathing picks up again, pushing against his hand and the fingers locked in his flesh. “Ugh, Uhn-”

“Come on baby, let’s see-” He can hear the smile in his voice even through the thick air, the heaviness inside him. He needs something to hold onto, but he can't find purchase on anything- “Let's see that pretty face, come on-”

“ _ Yeahhhh- _ ” Tooru moans, opens his eyes and looks at him. Urie’s sweating, greedy- red-faced and grinning and handsome and wild and messy and  _ wonderful _ like he only ever is here, safe and warm and with him and maybe it’s Urie’s hand in his gut or the sex or  _ something  _ but Tooru wants to  _ keep him and love him and show him just how much- _

“ _ Daddy, _ ” he moans, not quietly. 

Urie shouts into the stale air and comes inside him.

He doesn't know if his eyes are open or not. All he knows is that if he concentrates, he can feel every heated gush inside him, every twitch and tremble.

When Urie’s done it’s like a string snaps, and all the strength and tension melts out of his body. Urie collapses on top of him and lets Tooru go. He misses the feeling instantly. 

He’s kissing him sloppily, all over his face, his neck and chest. Anywhere he can reach. Tooru’s breathing settles. Urie hasn’t pulled out.

He settles in the crook of his neck and licks him, humming incoherently. Tooru doesn't quite have the feeling back in his limbs, but he tries to move, tries to reach up and stroke the inky black head with numb hands. Urie kisses his neck gently, with slick lips and warm breath. Then he fits his teeth around Tooru’s neck and bites down hard.

Tooru screams and jolts like he’s been electrified. The pain is instant, white hot and blazing through him. Urie’s still heavy on top of him, he can't  _ move,  _ and he's almost thinking  _ red, RED, KUKI- _

“What did you say, sweetheart?” Urie rumbles, and Tooru trembles. His mouth is still in what must be an open wound- slick as blood, sticky as copper. Urie raises his head and licks his lips. His ghoul eye has turned. His face is covered in blood. Tooru makes a warbling, uncertain, afraid noise. His kagune is roiling under his skin, responding to the pain. “What did you call me? Did you call me your daddy?”

Tooru nods. He can't stop shivering.

Urie shifts again inside of him. His hips flush with Tooru’s. There's an audible noise as they squish together, a bubble and pop and  _ slide _ .

Urie hums. “You got so wet, honey, I’m sorry… you want me to take care of you?” 

Tooru moans hoarsely. The bite is already closing, the blood drying. He feels off kilter. Interrupted.

_ Put me together. _

“Yes, please, daddy.” He whispers.

Urie kisses his mouth, warmly, then his forehead. Condescendingly. 

He reaches under the bed and gropes for a box. Comes up with a small, blue vibrator in his hand.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says, softer than he’s ever heard him. He shimmies closer, deeper inside again. It doesn't feel like anything until he touches the vibrator to his clit and turns it on.

Tooru almost screams again. It's  _ different _ \- it's consistent and warm and it makes him feel empty, even with Urie still grinding slowly inside him, it makes him  _ want,  _ it makes him spasm and cry shakily until Urie’s free hand cards through his hair and calms him down. He whimpers, trying to push back, but his body isn’t listening to him, it's only listening to Urie and Urie is saying  _ stay.  _ He can't stop the sounds once they start, and he can't change it when they turn into  _ Oh, Daddy, Daddy please, please, harder, more- _

Urie smirks. “Sweet boy. You want more?” 

He nods vigorously, and realizes his hands are firmly anchored on Urie’s upper arms.

He rolls his hips. He’s hard again. Tooru shuts his eyes and sends a brief  _ Thank you _ skywards. Urie descends upon him, wraps his arms around him- Tooru shuts his eyes, digging nails into his shoulders.

Urie flips them, so he’s sitting up against the headboard and Tooru is in his lap, bewildered and cold.

“Alright, baby.” Urie tosses the vibrator to the other side of the bed. “Get some more.” 

Tooru licks his lips. “I-I don’t know if I can-”

Urie looks at him, appraising his face like he might a battle plan, or a new quinque. Completely neutral.

_ You will. _

Tooru turns his face away. He sinks incrementally lower, and swallows. He shakes before his legs work enough to raise him up, then lower him down. Urie’s hands rest on his thighs, at ease. 

It's slow. It’s uneven and sloppy and he can't believe Urie might be getting any enjoyment out of it until he reaches out, leaning forward until his forehead is against Tooru’s sternum. He exhales. 

Tooru bites his lip. He’s close.

Urie grabs one of his breasts, not gently, and jams the nipple in his mouth. Tooru feels it go past his teeth, his tongue find the bud and his lips close around to suck. 

Tooru falters, then speeds up, tries to drop faster. 

“Come on baby, I'm close again, just a little more,” he murmurs into Tooru’s skin. He whimpers. “ _ Come on. _ ”

Urie starts to  _ pull  _ him down, deeper than he could go on his own. He feels it coming in his throat, in the tightening of his chest. But he can't- fucking-

“Daddy…” he says hoarsely. He sounds fucked out, exhausted, horny- he  _ needs.  _ “Can I have… can you… with the… vibrator…” 

Urie flicks it to the highest setting and sets it between their pubic bones, and swallows Tooru’s scream when he drags him in for a kiss.

 

_ _ _ _ _


	2. You Got Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> I've had enough brownies to think this is a good idea,  
> this is gonna be a lot angstier than I originally thought,  
> 90% of my fic starts as porn and the angst comes later.  
> With that in mind, enjoy.

Urie can name off a few turning points in his life.

His parents. Their funerals.

His first surgery. Second. After that he stopped counting.

Meeting Sasaki. Meeting Kaneki.

His first night with Tooru, not the first time they fucked but the night they first slept in the same bed- Tooru trembled like a bird when Urie touched him, let himself indulge and stroke and smell and nuzzle him, all things he tamped down during the day. Urie was touch starved.

The first time that word slipped past Tooru’s lips. _Daddy._

His brain didn’t know how to feel about it. There are some things he just never thought he’d encounter.

Looking down at his unconscious boyfriend, covered in blood and bruises and love bites, pale and sickly in the lamplight, his body had answered in the form of tears.

Urie had cried during sex, definitely. When Tooru edged him too long, or hit him too hard or if his day or his past happened to catch up with him behind a blindfold and under cover of candlelight and wax burns. Tooru had always been there, quiet, quick voice. _Urie. Colour?_ And he’d respond with either a desperate shake of his head or a choked out, gravelly _Kermes._

But never after.

He sniffs pathetically, curled up in a ball next to Tooru. As soon as Tooru had orgasmed, he'd spasmed and howled long enough for Urie to catch up with him- and come as soon as he went limp as a ragdoll.

He clicks off the vibrator miserably and puts his head in his hands. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ _What the fuck._

His head is a mess.

_What do we do after sex normally?_

_Whoever's more able usually gets some water running. Or just wipe off and go to sleep._

It's just sex. It really was _just_ sex. Pretty tame for them, really.

So why is he crying?

Is it because Tooru called him _Daddy_ and he'd come immediately like some fucking teenager?

No.

He looks down at Tooru again, and stares at the deep purple bruising beginning to show in his belly.

It really shouldn't be him crying. He was so rough.

He'd just bit him on the neck. Swallowed the burst of iron and heat and reveled in the shriek it brought on.

It's not without meaning, especially for them. Possession and frustration. Love and irritation.

He adjusts the pillow underneath Tooru, pulls every blanket layer they have over him, and leaves to go run the bath.

He briefly cleans his own semen and Tooru’s wetness off his dick and pulls some pyjama pants on. For two orgasms in the space of about six minutes, he's fucking restless. The last time Tooru had done that to him he'd napped for three hours.

Tooru. God.

He needs to be… away from Tooru for a minute.

He goes to the kitchen, quiet and homey, and drinks a full glass of water, and then a second one.

He glances at the stove clock. It's not even midnight.

He hangs his head over the sink. He needs to run. Or sleep. Or bang his head against the counter until life makes sense again-

“Urie?”

He whirls around and stares at Saiko, two steps from the bottom of the stairs.

She's as greyscale and quiet as the rest if the room.

“Saiko. Hi.” he exhales, but the tension in his shoulders won’t drop. “You scared me.”

“You fucking scared the rest of us,” her voice, dry as ever, is suddenly seething with venom. “What the hell was with all the screaming?”

Urie winces. “Uh, Tooru, he…”

Urie stares at Saiko. Saiko stares back. Unwavering.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just running a bath for him.”

“You two have a safeword, don’t you?”

Urie’s brow furrows, offended. “Uh. Yes. Do you think I hurt him?”

Saiko pauses. Her right eyebrow pops up.

“There's blood all over your face,” she says flatly.

 _Shit._ Urie’s hand flies to his face and he immediately feels the obvious tackiness and tightness over his chin, down his neck and up his cheeks.

“Whatever. It's none of my business what you do in bed.” she wraps her robe tighter around herself and turns away, uncomfortable.

“It really isn’t,” Urie growls.

“It's just… everyone heard that, and thought ...” She winces. “Aura came into my room and asked if we should suit up.”

“... Oh.”

“Yeah. Kinda freaked them out.” Saiko scratches the back of her head. Her big eyes dart. “Kinda freaked me out.”

Urie leans back against the counter. Saiko’s presence calms him somewhat- reminds him that what happened in their room was normal, was separate from the world but not- people could hear it. People could see it and understand it and it wasn't some acid trip or uneasy dream. It was sex. It was sex.

That makes him… infinitely calmer.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry then.” He turns and busies himself with getting a waterbottle for Tooru, and getting him something to eat. What the hell does Tooru bring him when he’s too fucked up to move? “I didn't mean to… make you uncomfortable or anything. We just got a little carried away. He’s sleeping, I’m running a bath, we're both fine.”

“It's alright.” her voice is closer now. “At least we know you're virile.”

Urie scoffs and picks a banana, an apple from a bowl on the table. “Yep. At least we have our youth.”

Saiko pulls a knife and helps him slice rabbits from the apples and chop the bananas. She recommends a sandwich as well, since Urie definitely is that whipped, and Urie says he'll prove that he is whipped and proud of it by making Tooru the best goddamn sandwich he’s ever eaten after sex.

It's comfortable. Urie might still be high and anxious from biting Tooru or fucking him unconscious, but he's winding down, breathing stable. He can think clearly.

He carefully understands that both of them have a daddy kink. Didn't see it coming but fuck if he's letting go of the thrill and immediate stab of heat in his stomach when he remembers Tooru, pinned underneath him, calling him _that_ through his tears.

“Thank you, Saiko.” he murmurs. She looks up at him.

“For what?”

“For, just…” he pinches the bridge of his nose, suddenly emotional again. He laughs.“I don’t know. You just helped me so much, you have no idea. I was freaking out.”

Saiko nods seriously and turns back to their work, squeezes his deltoid. “Anything you need. Either of you.”

Something about her words, her voice. Urie melts inside, and tries to make the way his spine straightens immediately seem more like a stretch then a shock.

Saiko takes her hand off him. He’s very warm. He must still be sensitive, crackling and hot like a livewire.

He clears his throat. “Um. Thanks.”

“You okay?” Wide. Soft. Uh.

Yeah. Still sensitive.

Is it warm in the kitchen? His face feels very warm.

“Yes. Thank you.” He arranges the food on a plate and takes the waterbottle. “I’ll take this up to him.”

“Kay.” Saiko ducks away, lets him pass. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. And, uh…” he bows his head to her awkwardly. “Again, sorry.”

She laughs dryly. “All fine. Sounded like a lot of fun.”

“Oh, yeah.” Urie says a bit maniacally and then runs away before he can say anything else.

He stops at the foot of the bed, Tooru still asleep, and remembers he really should clean his mouth before waking him up.

He has to take a moment, sitting on the edge of the full tub. He feels hot, clammy. Head between his legs, a feeling not unlike anxiety cramping his gut.

 _What the fuck,_ he mouths to the floor, blush high on his cheeks. _What the fuck._

Then he stands like the captain he is and marches out to his snoring bedmate. “Tooru,” he tries. Nothing.

He kneels and gently slides a hand over his head, scratching at his scalp. “Baby. Tooru...”

His brow furrows, mouth purses adorably. Urie smiles, feeling his belly let go of the tightness in his ribs and his anxiety melt away.

He stands and carefully moves Tooru to the end of the bed, into his arms. He snuggles immediately into Urie’s bare chest, annoyed. “Whusshappenin…”

“We’re taking a bath. We're both disgusting.”

He doesn't respond. He’s already asleep again. Urie snickers.

He kicks his pants off, the steamy room enough to keep them warm. He washes Tooru carefully, squeezing a cloth between his legs and over his back.

He makes a soft noise when Urie gingerly touches the bruise on his belly, an almost comically perfect imprint of his hand in a bloody purple colour. He winces. “Sorry.”

Tooru mumbles something. The bite on his neck hasn't healed over, and he's leaning over like it hurts him. Urie gets to that last.

He slips into the bath with Tooru in his arms, arranges them so they're wrapped up together in the foggy, rosy water. Tooru’s nose wrinkles.

“Did you put salt in here?” he says, gravelly.

“Sure did.”

“Feels good,” Tooru mumbles.

Urie fist pumps, quietly, not disturbing Tooru. Boyfriend points.

He strokes Tooru’s shoulder until he drifts off again, rests his head against his crown.

He looks so lovely without his eyepatch. He doesn't really need it, everyone knows what they are. But maybe he's still sensitive enough to have it turn at the drop of a hat.

He scratches the blood off Tooru’s healed skin and then lays back to relax a little.

Tooru comes back to him slowly. When he wakes his head slowly shifts, hair dragging in the water, stuck to Urie’s chest.

He raises his face, looks at him. He's squinting, probably sore already.

“Hi,” Urie says softly. “You alright?”

“Did I call you daddy?” He says confusedly. Urie laughs.

“Yeah, you did.”

Tooru squirms, pushing his face back into Urie’s chest. “Ugh.”

“Oh, hush. It was hot.” Urie kisses his forehead until Tooru shifts again and he can catch his mouth, red and bruised.

He doesn't use his tongue, just holds him close, feels his space.

Tooru starts to cry.

Urie eases him through the burst of bonding hormones and half-baked emotions as they spill out all at once. He gets it. He's never fully understood it before but now he _gets_ it.

“It's alright, honey… let it come, just let it come.” Tooru sobs hard at that, and his little nails dig into Urie’s arms, shaking. “Let it come…”

Saiko’s moon eyes, her calming aura.

Urie freezes, anxiety abrupt as an ice bucket of water over his head. He’ll never be like that.

His arms tighten around Tooru even as he quiets, turns around so their chests are together and rocks himself softly.

“I’m okay,” He says, stronger, and Urie relaxes imperceptibly.

In bed, later; Tooru’s wrapped up in his arms, in his bedsheets. His heart is so full of dark hair and dark eyes and fluttery, anxious hands and humor he can barely move- but still he thinks about Saiko, a floor above and a few rooms away. She must still be worried.

Urie’s still worried.

He tamps down the feeling, waits for a mask to set itself in his face even though Tooru can’t see him.

He sleeps like a rock, but the feeling is still waiting for him when he wakes.

_ _

 

Tooru’s blown off their morning run before he opens his eyes.

Maybe not, like, _physically,_ it’s not like he’s actually said, _I don’t want to run today,_ but spiritually, as a state of being- it’s out of the question.

No, scratch that, it’s also physically out of the question.

As soon as he shifts on the mattress he can feel the familiar soreness in his gut and hamstrings, and the less familiar pain in the skin of his belly and the inside of his thigh.

He should be healed by now. But it doesn’t seem odd that he isn’t.

Urie’s there immediately when he wakes- snuggled up close to him, all gentle hands and anxious eyes. He smiles.

“What time is it?”

“Six thirty. Thought you might not wanna run today,” Urie says softly.

Tooru, still buried facedown in a pillow, sweeps out with his hand and pets the part of him he comes in contact with absently. Urie’s getting _all_ the boyfriend points when he can walk again.

“You’re petting my butt,” Urie remarks.

“Am I now…” Tooru mumbles. Then he giggles. He’d wondered why what he’d thought was his hip was so… _full._ “Peach butt.”

“Candy ass,” Urie shoots back, smile in his voice, and Tooru laughs under the onslaught of smooches the side of his face gets.

 _Oh, god._ “I missed you,” he whispers into the pillow.

Urie stills, lays against him for a moment. They lie with each other, and Tooru can tell Urie’s thinking about the past two weeks the same way he is.

Are they talking about it?

“Tooru.”

His mouth twists. Okay. They’re talking about it.

They can treat it like a brief lapse of judgment- Tooru determining he wasn’t reading himself correctly, that he still was just Saiko’s good friend and wanted it to stay that way, Urie withdrawing in answer and kissing him more, but turning his face away faster. His heart had been full of Saiko and allowing himself to wallow in the absolute misery of having a crush had only made it worse -didn’t think he’d have to go through _that_ again after he and Urie got their shit together- but his brain had seen Urie’s downcast eyes, his tight mouth. Dangerously reminiscent of the broken, withdrawn teenager he’d been when they’d met. Intimidating. Unreachable, a person to be avoided and ignored for his own good.

He’d only been able to think, _Not like this._

If he’d known he’d get fucked into next week for his trouble he might have done it sooner.

Well. He’s always down to talk, and they probably should do it while he’s in such a good mood-

“-How was last night? For you?” Urie asked, deadpan. They're lying on their bellies, side by side, Urie propped up on his elbows and Tooru’s hand still absentmindedly squeezing his butt.

 _Oh._ They’re not talking about it.

“Mm, solid, like, nineteen out of ten.” Tooru shrugs. “Always room for improvement.”

“Of course,” Urie nods seriously. He feels fingers press gently against his neck, searching. “What about the bite?”

“What about it?”

“It was… rough.”

“We’ve bitten each other before.” Tooru flips over onto his back so he can kiss Urie as they talk, gross breath and all. He notices one of his nipples is bruised over as well, in the all-too familiar pattern of his lover’s teeth. “I’ve given you much worse than that.”

He wonders idly if his body, broken and stressed and perfectly fine as it is, recognizes Urie’s bite- knows to accept it and let him take what he needs. Knows to heal fast and crane his head for the next when it comes.

That makes him… weirdly satisfied.

 _Daddy._ It sounds unbelievably fond inside his head, watching the sandpapery curve of his jaw as it tenses a little. Tooru smiles.

“Well, yeah, but, that spot-” Urie grimaces and lowers himself onto the pillow.

Even back at the auction raid, years and years ago- he couldn't bring himself to pull away. It was the first time his instincts had told him to help Urie- that Urie needed him.

And, at that point, it’s not like Urie cared that all this was going on in his brain, he’d just wrenched his hand out of his gut, swallowed, and they continued on their merry way.

Tooru frowns. Is that why Urie thinks last night was different?

“Is it because that’s where you took a chunk out of me at the auction raid?”

Urie squirms for a second, then peeks a nervous eye out and nods. Tooru sighs.

“Babe.”

“I know.” Urie turns his face back to the pillow.

“I was okay with it, even then. If it was what you needed, I was okay with it.” He lays back down and reaches over, scratches Urie’s scalp lightly. “You were a different person. You hadn’t grown up yet. And neither had I.”

“It’s no excuse,” he mumbles into the pillow.

“Mmmm, I think it is. Come on. I liked it.” Tooru snuggles close and shuts his eyes. “It was very dominant of you. Feels good to be yours.”

“Okay. Jeez.” Urie pokes his face out again and smiles at him cheekily. “You’re nasty.”

“Only for you, honey.” He grins.

 

 

“Quinx squad- you will be on the inside, gathering whatever intel comes your way- but our motive here is extermination, not diplomacy. Your objective during phase three is to infiltrate the top floors of the venue to eradicate any chances of escape through the roof or windows.” The duty officer gestures grandly to the blueprints of the party venue. Tooru squints.

“Wouldn't it be more useful to go digging rather than just wander around?”

The duty officer glares over his glasses. “You won’t just be _wandering around,_ you will be barring any and all exits from the fourth floor up, and _not getting caught by asking too many questions._ ”

Tooru smiles brightly at the officer, who turns up his nose. _Well ain’t that just the way._

“How is barring exits less conspicuous than asking around for intel?” Urie asks seriously. Tooru bites back a smile.

“I trust your _expertise_ to handle any obstacle that may hinder you doing your _job,_ First Class Urie.”

“Certainly, sir. Can we ask the ghouls where the snack bar is?”

“No. There will be no snack bar.”

“How do you know there will be no snack bar?”

“Because-” The duty officer is tired. So, so tired. Hige’s smiling wide. “On a mission you shouldn't be worried about the snack bar.”

“I’m worried about the snack bar,” Saiko says.

 

 

“Well how the hell else are we supposed to find the snack bar if the duty officer doesn't tell us?” Urie says incredulously as they’re walking back to the office. Tooru hasn’t stopped giggling since they left the conference room. “This is a very serious issue for me, what if I get hangry and endanger the mission?”

“Well, I dunno, do you immediately start throwing hands and shouting that you’re a CCG officer when you’re hangry?” Saiko asks seriously.

“I _could,_ ” Urie sniffs.

“I don’t even think the mission would be jeopardized if you did that. People would just think you’re drunk.” Tooru hipchecks open the glass door and lets Saiko and Urie in. “Can ghouls even get drunk?”

Urie ponders this. “I actually have no idea.”

“Seems like they wouldn’t be able to.”

Saiko raises her eyebrows and points at him. _True, true._ “We should try. Anyone for getting liquored?”

“The day I say no to _that_ question, I’ll know I’ve made it.” mutters Urie.

“I fucking wish I could get drunk on this mission.” Saiko collapses on the couch in the middle of the room with a groan. “I hate these ones.”

“‘Cause you have to be social?”

“ _No,_ thank you, Mucchan,” she hisses. “‘Cause they're _different._ ”

Urie pauses, and exchanges a look with Tooru. He clenches his jaw and looks away.

“Not much we can do about that.” he says quietly.

“I know. I just…” Saiko shrugs. The light mood melts away as she looks at her toes. “It reminds me that they really are out there for a good time, just like us.” She says quietly. “They're just having fun. And here we are, coming in and barring the exits while they light the place up.”

Urie looks away.

“Yeah,” Tooru murmurs. “I know.”

Tooru scratches at the still-prickly bite in his neck, hidden mostly under his shirt collar.

“Well. It’s a post-Aogiri raid, most of the ghouls there will be looking more for alliances and organizations than a party.” Urie cracks his kagune shoulder. “Definitely a few new leaders, looking to take up the mantle, but mostly old Aogiri groups, scattered individuals. Probably one of the lesser-inflammatory kinds of ghoul gatherings.”

“So, I was picturing a rave, but you’re kind of making it seem like a sit-down dinner or something.” Saiko asks.

“It’s social. Think dinner party, B-rate catering.” Tooru says. “Dress smart. Like you’re going to a job fair.”

“Exactly.” Urie nods in his direction. “Like a job fair, but with more chance of being eaten.”

 

They're sitting at a ramen shop four hours later waiting to pay their bill when Tooru frowns suddenly.

“Urie, what made you say it’s like a job fair?”

Urie burps, then turns to his partner, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The mission, what made you think it was like a job fair?”

He scratches his chest. “Because there’s gonna be a bunch of lie-low, new ghoul organizations trying to reel in new members?”

The implication must hit Saiko the same time it hits Tooru, because her slurping from the other side of the table abruptly ceases.

“Wouldn’t that mean Sasaki’s gonna be there?” he says.

Saying his name is easier now, and he’s infinitely relieved for that. It took a long time, til months after he became just another name in a file, for him to speak without his throat closing up. Shirazu took much longer.

He’s only seen Sasaki a few times since he ‘quit;’ and he knows Urie has been present for most of those instances. But he doesn’t think Saiko’s seen him since Shirazu.

Her face says she knows it. She looks like she’s trying very hard to have no reaction. Tooru frowns.

Urie, unaware of her, cocks an eyebrow. “I mean, maybe. Who knows who’d still be loyal to the One-Eyed king after he disappeared for nearly four years.”

“I don’t know if he’d want to draw attention to himself by going to an event like this.” Tooru rubs his hands together, interlaces his own fingers. “He knows how the CCG tracks an event, and that they’re looking for it; maybe he’ll avoid it.”

“Yeah, but he’s also a sucker for innocents and civilians, and Washuu knows that.” Urie scoffs. “Maybe he knows the risk and is coming regardless, if just to save whoever he can and hope they’ll follow him for it.”

“If he supposedly gets all his funding from the suit guy, I doubt he’ll need many followers anyway.”

Tooru’s had one ear on Saiko the entire time, but when he and Urie stop to muse on this, it becomes blatantly obvious that she’s pulled out of the conversation completely.

This, as most things that are not Tooru and work do, flies right over Urie’s head. He finishes off his beer and grimaces dramatically. “Ugh. Theory; Ghouls can’t get drunk, but that doesn’t mean they can’t tell a shit beer from a good one. Let’s get out of here.”

 

 

The operation itself is about a week out- which is surprising, since ghoul rendezvous tend to be slapdash at best, small and dark with constant vigilance more than in a brightly lit area with hors d’oevres and well over a hundred guests.

Tooru can’t help but wonder what will happen with that many ghouls in one supposedly formal place. At least one death or life-threatening injury, he’s sure.

But with the event scheduled somewhat off his radar, after work and training and simulations he’s free to think about what’s been on his mind for days, and what’s happened since, in his bed. Between his legs.

Urie has been caring, and sweet and protective and loving, but with every soft kiss comes an infinitely rougher slap or harsh word or hiss of posessiveness- and Tooru loves every fucking second of it. Urie has been _studying_ , and it shows.

He has to resist the urge to tell Saiko everything that’s been happening- how _good_ he feels, how well-kept and loved and attractive Urie makes him feel. He’s been seriously close to slipping up, too many close calls where he could so easily share this with her as he would have a few months ago.

He’s even thinking it now, trying to blare it at her psychically so she can get the fucking hint. _SAIKO. SAIKO LISTEN TO ME, I CAME EIGHT TIMES LAST NIGHT. URIE WORKED ME OVER FOR THREE HOURS AND GAVE ME EIGHT PUSSY-SHATTERING ORGASMS. COUGH IF YOU CAN HEAR ME. LOVE YOU._

“You got something you wanna say?” Saiko says abruptly, turning towards him and slapping the file she’s been reading onto Urie’s desk. She looks pissed enough and hot enough that Tooru actually snaps out of it and feels his face well up beet fucking red.

“N-nope!” He says cheerfully and turns around, pretending to do something with the fruit arrangement on the coffee table behind him.

As much as he wants Saiko to know how much brain-melting sex he’s having, he also would rather keep the way he likes how her hair falls over her face when she leans forward a secret.

It’s getting confusing, and upsetting, and he’s beginning to realize why he told Urie when he did- he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Urie may consider the matter over and done with- actually, he doesn’t know that, they haven’t really talked about it- but Tooru’s getting a built up again. Saiko really is lovely, and kind, and beautiful and infinitely patient and brave. And he likes her.

He really, really, likes her.

He and Urie have started to fit together better- he feels like he’s opened up fully. He feels like they slot together in a puzzle-perfect way now, that the space in Urie’s mouth and between his fingers and behind his knees has been moulded for him.

He’d never tell Urie until he was sure, but sometimes he thinks they could get married.

And he’d never tell Saiko unless he was sure, but he thinks he’s in love with her.

Tooru grinds his thoughts to a halt, forces himself to breathe and calm down and leave the room.

Looking at dumb pictures of Urie on his phone helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kimi's writing style: Unbeta'd and fresh off the google doc
> 
> I LOVE COMMENTS GUYS! EVERY WRITER DOES! EVERY COMMENT MAKES MY DAY!!!!


	3. Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello its me again!  
> Sorry not sorry about the hiatus, Between my last update I got rejected to university, appealed to that university, got accepted to that university, moved to that university, and just completed my first term. It's been a wild ride.  
> not to mention I had a bunch of formatting problems with ao3 so that pushed it back by like a week out of sheer laziness  
> Me, handing you a kilo of shit that I am holding in my cupped palms: take it

In the interlude before the mission, Urie starts giving the kids talks. It's nothing they haven't heard before, but they've never been on a mission that required some degree of espionage.

Masks and formalwear- concealed carry and contact lenses all around. Tooru drops in on one of them and cringes as Urie sputters over Aura's idea of a disguise and then lays into him about _levels of preparedness_ and _academy graduation prerequisites_.

They go over the plan once, three times, one more for good measure. By the time Urie lets them out they're grumbling and tired- so Tooru feeds them, sits them in front of a movie and lets them drop off to sleep, one by one.

By the time the credits are rolling, Aura's head is tipped over onto his shoulder and he might be drooling on him. Tooru sighs and gently pushes him over onto Hige, whose face pinches and then relaxes in Hsiao's shoulder as Aura settles. He drapes them all in a blanket and shuts off the lights.

He finds Saiko in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone with a stir fry popping and searing in a pan. Urie's perched on a barstool, hunched over and shoveling a bowl of straight sticky rice into his mouth.

Tooru's heart fucking aches a bit. But he breathes through it until he can let it occupy another barstool in the room, and enters.

"Smells great," he says. Saiko glances up, then puts her phone down and cards through the mix with her chopsticks.

"Thanks. I made chicken stock rice, too. You didn't eat yet, right?" She hands him a bowl of what Urie's now throwing back like a shot, steaming and warm.

"Thanks."

"Welcome," She says, handing him his chopsticks and turning back to the stove with a nod.

Urie reaches out and massages his lower back, mouth full, and makes an inquiring noise. "Mmhph," he says emphatically, still chewing.

Tooru giggles. "What?"

He swallows. "- _How was your day?_ "

"Good, and you?"

"Not bad." He leans in for a kiss and picks up Tooru's bowl, taking a pinch and trying to feed him. "Better now."

"Mhm?" Tooru accepts the bite and giggles when Urie smiles lazily.

"Mmmmmmhm."

"Ugh, you two are disgusting." Saiko groans, still facing the stove.

"No need to be jealous, Yonebayashi-kun, you're welcome to join in." Urie sets down Tooru's chopsticks with a final _click._

Tooru's face falls. The cluttered sounds of the kitchen at night fill the silence that overtakes the three of them.

_He doesn't even realize what he's said._ Urie's still munching away at his rice, picking some up and offering it to Tooru. He ignores him.

Saiko has visibly gone still at what he's said, no doubt uncomfortable and in a position that Tooru really wanted to avoid putting her in at all costs.

Tooru's mouth shuts and he stares at Urie flatly. _Really?_ He wants to say. **_Really?_ ** _Are you_ **_fucking kidding me?_ **

Saiko is silent for a moment longer. Tooru wishes he could see her face.

Then she lets out a dry laugh. "Haha. No thank you, Kuki. _Hearing's_ enough for me."

Tooru doesn't get it for a moment. Then, as though on cue, the bitemark starts to flush and itch.

His head snaps around to stare at Saiko. " _What?_ He chokes out before he can stop himself. "What do you mean? I- we-"

Saiko vaguely motions over her shoulder with her phone. "It's alright, Tooru, it's not your fault."

He whips around to look at Urie, who is levelling a frosty glare at Saiko's back.

"Yeah but I-" he falters. His face must be beet red. "I'm _so_ sorry, Saiko, I didn't know I was- um..."

"Mucchan." As if to emphasize how _apparently okay she is with listening to them fuck,_ she turns around and waves her hands, face carefully blank. "It is totally fine. Urie and I talked about it."

"You _talked about it?_ " Tooru says a little shrilly.

"It's fine!"

"No, it's not fine, apparently-" Urie straightens up, more than a little pissed. "If me and Tooru bother you so much, maybe you should get better fucking headphones."

Tooru stares incredulously. He's speechless. Utterly fucking speechless.

Saiko glowers at him. "...That's not what I meant."

"You sure about that?" Urie's brow furrows. "Cause it sounded like it."

" _Urie!_ "Tooru hisses.

"It was a joke, please just let it go-" Saiko says tiredly, trying to turn back to the stove.

"You expect me to listen to you judging us based on what you listened in on? No, I'm not gonna let it go! What we do is _none_ of your fucking business. I thought you knew that."

"Oh please, did you think I wanted to know Tooru calls you daddy?" Saiko snorts.

The look on her face says she regrets it instantly. But Tooru's attention is somewhat diverted to the fucking vise closing around his windpipe and the instant spread of heat and nausea through his belly.

There's a moment of terrible silence during which the sound of Tooru's reverent moaning comes back to all three of them; inciting a reaction of deep-set shame and poisonous anxiety in one, white-hot fury and protectiveness in another, and instant regret and shame in the last.

Then Urie says, dangerously low. "You apologize to him right fucking now, Saiko, or we're gonna have a problem."

"Stop talking." Tooru chokes out. "Both of you, just- stop."

Saiko, at least, looks ashamed. "I'm- I'm sorry."

" _Shut up,_ "Tooru says, strangled. Saiko shuts up.

It's not even just embarrassment and anxiety and fear of judgement swirling around inside him. More than anything is a deep, ugly, all-consuming disappointment and hurt.

He gets up and leaves the table and no one tries to stop him.

Urie doesn't watch him go. He knows when Tooru needs space.

He glares at Saiko instead. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asks.

Her brows draw together. She stares hard at the countertop. "You shouldn't have said that to me."

Urie blinks. He hadn't expected that. "Wait, what?"

"' _N_ _o need to be jealous. You're welcome to join in.'_ " Saiko curls her lip. "He hated that. He doesn't see me that way, I could _smell_ how uncomfortable it made him. He doesn't want that. Don't joke about it."

Urie's so tangled in different strings and threads of thought and judgement that he almost corrects her. Instead he stares at her like an idiot. "You shouldn't have said we're disgusting."

"I was actually just joking _._ " Saiko mutters.

"I know. But I just..." Urie looks at the table and crosses his arms very hard. "I don't know. It's sensitive enough and it's close enough to the mission that I-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up _._ " She growls. "Don't give me that crap. You're hiding something. And I don't care if it's about _me,_ and I don't care if it's about _him._ And I really don't care if I _hear-_ " _s_ he dumps her chopsticks and her saucepan in the sink and clicks off the element. "-But you need to stop being so damn sensitive and tell Tooru, no matter what it is, because you acting like I'm out to get you or something is gonna get old." she storms out of the room, the same way Tooru went. "Mucchan- I'm sorry, come talk to me." he hears her voice move further down the hall.

Urie couldn't move if he wanted to. His heart is pounding, and he doesn't think it's from rage anymore.

_You're hiding something._

What the fuck is he _hiding?_

What riles him and frustrates him so much he can't think straight? What affects his ability to make rational decisions?

Well, off the top of his head, Tooru.

Saiko.

He turns around and looks at the hallway she'd run down, listening to their rising, harried voices. Tooru and Saiko.

"I'm really, really sorry." He hears Saiko's humble voice, no longer blocked by Tooru's hissing. "I shouldn't have said that, and Urie just..."

_Urie what?_

"... I don't know. He's to blame as well. Not just me. I don't know what happened."

"Don't try to push this all on him. I know you have shit you don't want me to know."

_Saiko and Tooru._

"I do. I know. I understand."

_Urie_ **_what_ ** _?_

"He just..."

Urie realizes he's about to snap the chopsticks he's holding. He carefully lays them down on the countertop and pads to the mouth of the hallway. He can see Tooru, poking his head out of their room, arms crossed, glaring. Urie might have to sleep on the couch tonight.

Saiko's hands, gesturing. "...I don't know if you've noticed anything. But something's up. Something's different about him."

"That's between us. Me and him." Tooru says flatly.

"If it's messing with the team dynamic-"

"Oh for fuck's sakes, Saiko, you can't just use the 'it's bad for the team dynamic' excuse every time something bugs you." Tooru's done. He backs into their room. "He has boundaries too." He shuts the door.

:::

As pissed as Tooru is, it's times like these when Urie really loves him.

Protecting him from someone poking her head in their affairs. Affair.

Their whole. Deal.

He hasn't gone into their room. He probably should.

Probably should be doing a lot of things besides sitting spread-eagled, loose-lipped on the floor of the kitchen, five inches deep in a wine bottle.

The sound of a door opening perks him up like a doberman, a somatic, synaptic reaction to the specific click of that specific doorknob and the style of the creaks of the floorboards that come after.

Tooru's eyes are swollen when he comes into view, his lips red and jaw tight. He freezes when he sees Urie.

"Dude what the fuck." he says flatly.

"Yeah," Urie agrees, grinning sharp, purple-stained teeth at him.

Tooru sighs and goes to grab the winebottle from his hands. Urie's too sloshed to really try to keep it, but still whines as he straightens up, raising it to hip level-

-And then past it, drinking deeply from the bottle for a good seven seconds. He coughs primly when he pulls off, wiping his face.

"I fucking love you," Urie says seriously.

"Noted." Tooru tips the neck of the bottle towards him and he takes it. He slides down the counter until he's sitting next to Urie, attached at the shoulder and hip and ankle.

"I'm sorry about dinner," Urie says softly. Tooru shakes his head.

"Accepted. But it was by and large her fault." He sighs. "She shouldn't have said half the shit she did, and she knows it."

The kitchen and subsequent living room are quiet, moonlit and greyscale. It had looked like this when Saiko had caught him having a nervous breakdown over the sink with muscle strands between his teeth. He feels so much warmer than he did then- drunk as a motherfucker and nuzzling his lover between wine-flavored exhalations. Tooru takes his hand.

"I'm still sorry," He says, softer, watching Tooru play with his fingers.

"I know, babe." Tooru murmurs. He wipes an involuntary tear from his cheek, brow furrowed, mouth twisted as he stares down at their intertwined hands. "I'm sorry too."

It's that moment that Urie decides he wants to get Tooru a ring.

Of course, it has to all go to shit before he can do that.

:::

Tooru gets dressed at work, slipping out of his dove-white collar for a blue herringbone-patterned dress shirt, changing his cheap office shoes for a more expensive pair. He slips a grey jacket over it and deliberates, purses his lips at his reflection and wonders if black would look better with his slacks.

There's a brief knock at the door, and through the frosted glass, Tooru can tell it's Urie. "Come in!"

He slips inside, smiling when he sees Tooru. "Oh, look at you. All dressed up."

"You too," Tooru grins at Urie's suit- silky black on brown oxfords and a white shirt. It's plain, but as usual he looks unfairly good in it. "You really took that job fair thing to heart, didn't you."

"It was a good metaphor." Urie shrugs. "You alright for this one?" he can hear Urie bustling around, straightening some files and books on the table before sitting down. "Feeling good?"

"Yeah." Tooru tucks in his duck tail, smoothing out the fabric at his back and admiring the way the shirt contrasts with his skin. "We're pretty removed from the actual fighting. Shouldn't be much going on."

"I kind of wonder why we were put on this mission at all," Urie says, toying with a paperweight in his hand. "Like, barring exits and a roof evac." he splays his hands dramatically. "Clearly a job only the quinx squad can do."

"Does kind of seem like spreading butter with a machete." Tooru leans closer, inspects the purple hickey on his collarbone, trying to make the shirt stay in a way that covers it. "But I think it's a good way to keep everybody down below, having us there. It makes sense if you think about how it ends."

Urie hums and leans back against the couch, watching him get ready. They sit in comfortable silence before Urie murmurs to him, barely audible. "You seen Saiko yet?"

"No, I haven't." he says cordially.

"Black pantsuit with a blue scarf." Urie says, as if commenting on the weather. "She looks really nice."

Urie's eyes catch his in the mirror like fingers snagging in a fishnet- the more he struggles inside, the harder it is to look away. Like he's waiting for his reaction. His fingers pause on his collar.

_What are you thinking, my love?_ He sighs internally.

Eventually he shifts off those black eyes and stops fiddling with his top button. No use trying to cover a hickey when Urie's bite is still etched deep into his neck. "I bet. Shall we?"

:::

The way the pantsuit is cut leaves her back and sides open- showing milky white skin and soft flesh, showing off the fucked-up scar where her kagune emerges in her lower back, for once not needing to be covered up.

"You look nice," he says to her on their way to their separate cars. She shoots him a wink, clicking her tongue.

"You too. See you on the roof."

Tooru smiles at her weakly as she takes Hsiao's hand and saunters away, long hair sweeping behind her.

His knife harness is a little snug around his chest- rubs under his armpits and at the dip between his collarbones. It doesn't hurt, not yet, but enough rubbing and stimulation through the night will abrade the delicate skin on his shoulders, his ribs, his chest.

:::

The venue is quite nice, with an open ballroom and balconies that lead up to the fourth floor. Their squad is supposed to start blocking off doors at the fifth floor.

They go in separately, but paired off- Saiko with Hsiao, Tooru with Aura and Urie with Hige, which he's sure both parties are thrilled about. Before they left he'd seen Urie clenching his teeth hard enough to make the vein in his forehead stand out as Hige draped himself over his arm in a bubblegum pink number that drips off his lean body like water. Saiko wolf-whistled mercilessly the second she saw them.

Tooru fiddles with his mask as they enter, asking Aura to tie it a little tighter before they get to the ballroom- but it still doesn't feel right. He ignores it in favor of slipping through the crowd inside as quickly as possible.

The first thing that hits him is the energy- the wall of scent and sweat that permeates the room of ghouls, even through his mask. He doesn't know why, but ghouls smell infinitely stronger to him than humans; so different that while he can describe a human scent in a few words, for ghouls he finds he has to dig around for language that makes him sound like a sommelier but still doesn't get his feeling across.

He notices Aura's nose wrinkling as well- which calms him slightly. It's overwhelming, and Urie doesn't really understand. He leans in and comments about it, lost in the din of the crowd, and Aura gives a timid, crooked smile.

If he was alone in this crowd of ghouls, he'd be freaking the fuck out- but with Aura, he's the older, more experienced Investigator, not to mention a role model. Slipping into the excuses and acting methods of a mentor is easier than trying to be himself in this situation.

_That's what Sasaki did, isn't it?_

The press of bodies evens out once they're past the doors, opening up to a tall room lined with balconies and hallways on either side- chairs and couches are set up along the sides to allow space for a dance floor. A few couples sway in worlds of their own, but the shiny flooring is mostly host to small groups of ghouls, clutching wineglasses and whispering amongst themselves.

Tooru sets a mask behind his mask- demure and neutral- and weaves his way through, as square-shouldered as possible. He tenses the muscles, one by one, down his back, all the way to his kagune; as if to reassure himself that it's still there.

Soft music beats through the top of the room's high ceiling, not loud enough to reach the groups milling around below. He spots a glance of Hsiao and Saiko's bared backs through a gap for an instant- then it's gone. He makes a mental note to keep track of them throughout the evening- Urie would come in behind them, he'd worry about him in a minute.

While he's still watching, Saiko's hand shoots up and she waves at him, pointing downwards with a grin splitting her face.

What? Tooru's brow furrows and he gives her a puzzled smile. Then he notices the long tables behind her, upon which sizeable trays of meat in the form of folded roses are placed for miles.

_Snack bar._ He raises a thumbs up after her, snickering to himself.

Folded roses. The detail doesn't escape him.

The evening progresses nicely- once the floor opens up a bit, he and Aura dance a bit. They're largely ignored by the majority of recruiters and keep to themselves until he glances at a wall-mounted clock that gives them half an hour to get in position. He frowns.

He smells Hige before he sees him, and Urie following behind. Hige slips in beside Aura silently, chin digging into his shoulder as he grins up at the impassive mask on his face. Hige's own mask matches his dress and barely does more than cover his cheekbones.

"Were you gonna go the whole night without asking me to dance?" Hige's breath rustles Aura's long hair.

"I was planning on it," Says Aura weakly. Hige huffs and drags him off.

Urie comes up behind him, then he feels a brush on his shoulder. He barely inclines his head. "Cute."

"He's gonna take a bite out of that boy." Urie shakes his head. Tooru's mouth quirks.

The lights abruptly dim, and immediately the couple's stances change, feet planted and shoulders setting for an eruption; not a subtle change, but seemingly looked over by the bystanders as the light filters are changed from yellow to blue.

Urie relaxes his iron grip on Tooru's wrist.

The music changes then- out on the dance floor, Hige stomps his feet and whines as it switches out to a gentle, swooping waltz. Aura holds out his hand, and Tooru loses sight of them through the now- active crowd.

His eyes flicker over to Urie. He walks around behind him, hand leaving his wrist in a gentle brush. He stops a few feet away, turns around, inclines his head and holds out a hand like Aura had. Tooru feels distinctly propositioned, and is about to take his hand like a fluttering virgin and let him seduce him all over again, when-

"Kyo-san."

Urie's eyes dart over Tooru's shoulder at the sound of his alias. Tooru looks behind him.

Saiko's there, mask pulled up so her mouth is free- lipstick in a thin line.

"I've seen enough." she says. _Showtime. See you on the roof._

Tooru falters. He looks back at Urie.

"Live a little," Urie shoots back. He doesn't lower his hand, nor change his stance.

Saiko's mouth twists. "Are you really gonna be like this?" she says flatly.

"I'm not being like anything." Urie mutters. "Can't a boy ask a boy for a dance?"

"Not tonight he can't."

"Both of you shut up." Tooru says tiredly. To Saiko, he whispers. "We have time."

"We can get going early."

"Too early too risky." Urie says. His hand drops when the music changes again. Lost their chance for a waltz when the lights come back up. Tooru feels a stab of irrational anger. At who, he's not sure. "Patience. We have time."

Something passes between Saiko and Urie that Tooru doesn't know. Doesn't see, maybe.

It feels like they're two strangers, honestly. And he doesn't like it.

Urie's eyes are slitted. He straightens up. Stiff and formal. Shoulders back.

Tooru can smell the anxiety pouring off him, and he does what he feels like he was made to do- he grabs Urie's hand, throws an apology over his shoulder and drags him off somewhere quiet.

He finally gets to a single bathroom, latch dropped, and turns on Urie. "What was that." he says flatly.

Urie's gritting his teeth. He feels tumultuous, too light inside, as candy-pink for Saiko as he is for Tooru. His heart is pounding.

Tooru, at a crossroads.

He didn't like that. He didn't like that one fucking bit.

"What the fuck was that," Tooru asks breathlessly, pissed and bewildered. Not at Urie, at himself, at Saiko, at this _mission._

"I don't know," Urie murmurs, slumping to the floor, walls broken down, fresh limestone to slip and claw against.

"Did you just try to make me-" Tooru runs hands through his hair, distressed. "Did you want me to _choose?_ I already _did!_ I said, I would stop if it was hurting you-"

"No! No," Urie puts his face in his hands. "I-" The words stick in his throat. He's on the verge of breaking down, rocking himself until he can speak.

"You what?" Tooru asks tiredly.

"I don't want you to have to choose." He grits out. "I don't want you to have to choose."

Tooru sways before him, utterly floored. "What does that mean?"

The first stressed tears slip down his cheeks in the warm air between his face and palms. "I don't know," he hisses. "I don't know what it means."

He trusted Tooru to know what it means. _What does it feel like?_ He wants to beg. _What does it feel like to be caught between her and I? Does it feel good? Does it feel like_ **_this?_ **

Tooru grabs his wrists, pulling them away from his face. Getting up in his space.

He pulls Urie's head against his neck and lets him sob.

He still doesn't understand. Neither of them do.

Eventually, they actually do have to get back to the mission. Tooru kisses Urie before they part and grabs Aura from where Hige's trying to neck him in a corner.

"Showtime." Saiko's rich, candy-pink voice comes over the comms they slip into their ears.

They split up on the top level- laying the upper charges on their way to the roof.

Tooru hangs from his harness in the elevator shaft, after Saiko had manually disabled it- Aura gripping for dear life onto the rope wound at least five times round his wrist in the hallway.

Ironically, this is the least stressful thing he's done all night. He sets the last charge, times it, and signals Aura to haul him up, hand over hand.

"Charge four set. We're hot, twenty on the clock." Tooru sets his timer to fifteen minutes, and another alarm at twenty, as he crawls out of the open shaft into the hallway. "Charge four on the docket. Hsiao?"

_Charges set. Coming up now,_ comes Hsiao's smooth voice.

_You're late._ Urie says gruffly, throat still swollen.

Tooru snorts. "Someone had some issues about dangling me in the elevator shaft."

"It's just a very long drop," Aura says quietly. "And he's very tiny."

_All fine. Hurry it up and be careful, please._

"Yes, darling." Tooru unclasps the rope and grabs his tac bag, gesturing Aura to his feet. "San. After you."

It goes well. The music still pulses up from the dance floor, louder when Aura opens their last exit door and monitors the stairwell while Tooru gets to work. _Seventeen minutes. Cutting it close._

Tooru shakes his head, and seals the bomb. _I can do seventeen minutes._

And then-

His ear jerks around. Presences, down the hall. His head whips over to his charge.

Aura doesn't hear yet.

He gestures at Aura and starts to creep towards him. He closes the exit door behind him very quietly and ducks. Locks it over their heads for good measure and puts a hand over Aura's mouth. Aura, lying down beside him, is sweating visibly. His deep eyes tremble.

Tooru's concentrating. One- no, two scents, two people. Gentle footfalls out of sync. His eyes migrate over their heads involuntarily.

He takes a deep breath. _Ginger and coffee. Roses and meat._ Mixed together like his and Urie's scents are. A couple.

Ginger and Coffee. A clean shirt and a leather eyepatch.

It takes a grim moment for him to realize. _Oh, please no._

The footfalls get closer, and he starts to hear their voices.

Kaneki and Tsukiyama pass them by, speaking quietly.

"-CCG operatives possibly involved," Kaneki's suit friend says, lightly accented, tinged with frustration. "We need to evacuate."

"You know, with all this talk about being my sword, I'd have thought you'd trust me a little more on this." comes Sasaki's voice, measured and soft. Tooru's spine tingles. Abruptly, his throat wells.

"That was when we were younger. And cuter." Tsukiyama says tiredly. "And stupider."

"You wound me," Kaneki says. He chuckles.

Their voices fade down the hall, and with them the gingery scent of his teacher.

Tooru has to fight down the instinct to chase, to touch his shoulder, and for an aching moment, see his eyes, see his face-

_Mucchan?_

He snaps out of it.

_Mucchan, fifteen minutes on the clock. Charges hot, mobilise and get up to the roof. Evac en route._

_San, is he okay?_

"I'm fine. I'll be fine." Tooru stands, sick to his stomach, and pushes out the exit door, heading for the rendezvous point, Aura in tow.

His heart pounds. He hadn't known. He hadn't thought- just a theory, a dumb little job-fair stupid _idea,_ and now it's real and he can still scent a trace of Sasaki in the hallway- different but still the same.

He has no idea.

He stops in his tracks.

:::

Urie's eyes dart between his watch and the roof hatch. _Ten minutes on the clock. Warning timer, five minutes._

"Hey," Saiko's voice comes softly. "He'll be fine."

"Of course he will." Urie replies. His eyes briefly pop up to the hatch. Then back to his watch.

"I'm just saying,"she continues. Her hair whips in the wind, thick and fluffy. She stumbles a bit. "'Cause you look like you're about to go in after him because he's two minutes late."

"Just monitoring." he says breezily. It's cold, up on the roof. Even through his suit jacket, he's cold. Saiko must be freezing. "Y'know. Commanding officer."

The hatch swings open, battering in the wind. Urie's heart beats out of his chest.

A black tac bag, Tooru's swings up and lands on the roof. Aura heaves upwards, staggering a bit as he braces against the wind. He rips off his mask, sweaty and distressed.

Urie's throat closes. The group waits, tense, for Tooru.

Hsiao. "Where is he," she says flatly.

"I'm sorry," Aura blurts. "I tried to stop him but he would't come, he said he had to run back down and I don't know why and I couldn't make him-"

Urie feels very cold in a way that has nothing to do with the violent breeze. "What happened."

He almost doesn't recognize his own voice, hoarse and dangerous. He feels like he's been gutted.

Aura buries his face in his hands."I don't know, it's like he suddenly just stopped and there was just a moment where he decided or something, he just- he just handed me the bag and told me to keep going, and then he ran back, after the-" Aura freezes. "... After the ghouls in the hallway."

"What. Ghouls." Saiko says.

"We- we had to hide from two ghouls while we were setting charge five, they were talking about CCG involvement and something about a sword? And Mutsuki-san went white as a sheet and he just ran..."

_A ghoul Tooru would go back for._

_Charges are set. Eight minutes. Warning timer three minutes._

_A ghoul Tooru would go back for._

Urie's gut turns to ice. His eyes meet Saiko's, wide and terrified.

He tears off his mask the same instant that his kagune rips through his shoulder.


	4. Fall Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to observe the tags that have been added for this chapter. It is very short, and very explicit in terms of life-threatening injury, vomiting and slapdash medical procedures. If you are not into that or it is something that does not sit well with you, please do not read.   
> Kimi's style is still and will always be unbeta'd and fresh off that google doc hunny  
> Enjoy!

The party’s still full tilt down below- Tooru had flown down the stairs, desperate for another trace of his teacher. He’s having trouble breathing in the crowd. Torn out his comm and his mask on the way down. 

The crowd is hot and oppressing. He shoves past fabric and bodies and kagune alike, a sea of black and red and blacklight- White hair- Kaneki had white hair-

He growls and tears off his eyepatch. His kakugan flares to life, highlighting the figures in the crowd more clearly. 

Tooru, on some level, registers a hand on his hip as he scans the crowd, heart pounding. “Oooh, hello, baby boy-”

He shakes off the female voice without a thought. His stomach drops when he finds a trace of sharp ginger towards the wall- sweet and acidic and barely there but still  _ near- _

“One-eyed! Hey!” a hand grips his shoulder, an enthusiastic voice tugging at him. “Come dance with me!” 

He glances behind him. A dark-haired, faceless female ghoul tugs on him again. “No thanks,” he says crisply, wrenching out of her grasp, ignoring how close he knows she is to dying tonight. He pushes through the crowd harder, towards the scent through the press of bodies, swiveling, straining for a shock of white hair in the blacklight, kagune lighting the place up-

“Ow! You’re gonna pay for that, brat-”

And out of the blue, suddenly, there he is. Leaning up against the wall, bickering with his violet friend. 

Tooru doesn’t wait, doesn’t let another second slip through his fingers. He lunges, and he screams. “ _ SASSAN-” _

The whole room goes dark with a resounding  _ Thoom. _

Tooru’s stomach drops to his fucking feet.

The music shuts off, giving way to the shuffling, sweaty sounds of the room, the initial, confused shouts- the murmur that follows.

_ Phase two. _

In the scrabbling, screaming chaos that comes, Tooru tries to stay calm. He can’t concentrate on his breathing without being swept along by the crowd’s jostling. He latches onto Sasaki’s scent and fights his way towards it. The ghoul’s panic is incendiary, rippling through the crowd when all the doors have been blocked off, where the rising temper suffocates him at the edges. 

“ _ SASSAN!” _ he screams again, and reaches out to the sharp, homey scent- tainted with an empty chest and a tight grip on his sword’s hand. 

He hears him. “Mutsuki?”

And the first bomb goes off. Front door. A burst of light and terror taking out a wave of ghouls. Another, and another. 

He remembers this phase. Shrapnel bombs. Laid beforehand in the venue hall. Then, he thinks clinically, the first quarter ballroom dies when the foundation crumples and the building collapses from the inside out. Burying the crowd alive.

The notion that he’s going to die here becomes very, very real for a moment. 

He starts screaming for Sasaki for an entirely different reason. 

 

The first blast trips up both of them- shaking the foundation of the building hard enough to tilt. Saiko screams and falls flat on her face.

Urie shouts when he’s thrown against the wall, but runs faster. “Come  _ on _ !” He yells behind him.

Saiko’s breathing is laboured. She gets to her knees, stares from the floor. “We can’t go down there.” Her voice is hoarse, tears beginning to wobble in her eyes. “We can’t go down there, Urie, we’ll die.”

“Head back up to the roof,” He says gruffly. 

“I’m not leaving you!” 

“Then  _ COME ON! _ ”

 

_ The first blast comes from the foundation, _ Tooru thinks dimly.  _ Parking garages and underground electrical lines and air ducts.  _ Takes out the whole dance floor. Rest of the building swaying, uncaring of collateral when more ghouls could die. 

When he opens his eyes there’s a sliver of light shining in them, and he’s pinned by a body and something much larger. Why isn’t he standing? He was standing just a second ago, he swears. 

Distantly, he registers the pain- kind of like the shots they got at the academy, HIV boosters, immunizations high schoolers might get. Too hazy and close to fainting to really register. Nervy. The scent of blood thick in the air around him. His shoulder feels weird- he’s broken it before, but it doesn’t feel like it did then.

His lungs expand against a too-tight ribcage. Too fast.

He shoves the body off him. It’s the girl from earlier, the one who grabbed him- staring, dead-eyed, bleeding from the mouth. He shoves harder, and something tugs in his chest.

He tries to squint through the dust. When he coughs liquid comes out instead of air.

_ I can’t die here I belong to someone.  _ He looks around groggily, feeling like his airway is somehow interrupted.  _ I can’t die here I have a boyfriend and a family.  _

_ Mutsuki! _

His own heartbeat feels very far away, fast and frantic. If he could just shut his eyes for a moment, maybe he’d wake up and he’d be under Urie in bed, being bitten into and breathed in- Saiko in his mind, where he can imagine her in the bed with them without Urie’s hurt overshadowing, some perfect world where talking isn’t so difficult and breathing isn’t so painful and they find a way to be together.

His body loosens, his crushing grip on life, on the splintered dance floor above, around him, starts to slip. 

_ It’s warm down here. _

Abruptly, rudely, the crushing weight and the rebar and the bodies he’s under is lifted, and he hears a distant crash. He misses the weight, dimly, far away. He felt secure. He felt owned.

“ _ Tooru _ .” Someone’s hissing at him. “ _ Tooru. _ ”

Strong arms and a lean chest. Excruciating pain radiates from deep in his chest and he gasps hard enough to hurt, hard enough to stain red the white t-shirt, the pale skin- 

Kaneki rips off the blank, dented metal mask and shouts in his face.

Sasaki doesn’t look like Kaneki. Kaneki’s the same kind of father- the same spitting mad mouth, the dark brows and frantic possessiveness. Kingly.

Kaneki is harsher. Whiter. Harder to please.

“Hi,” Tooru gargles, and blood bubbles up out and down his chin. He keeps blinking but his vision keeps blurring like it’s raining.

“Oh my Jesus fucking Christ.” Tsukiyama says.

“Shut up!” Kaneki hefts Tooru higher in his arms, and the pain is so bad that he almost passes out. 

He does lose it, momentarily, jarred and shocked and hurting, and he can’t hear for a moment. His face feels slippery when he touches it. The second impact takes out the far side of the ballroom, dropping the floor there even lower- he can see now, the bodies and the rubble and the sides and floor completely ruined- kagunes sprouting like endospores, signals for help, jagged and broken and wailing. 

He feels the impact in his brain. “They’ll come in this side,” He says. “Go up.”

His mouth doesn’t feel right. Like his teeth don’t line up. The blackness is back, swallowing the edges of his vision, and he grunts, fighting it.

“You sure?” Kaneki says. His voice is bumpy like a record. Like he’s swallowed wool. Like he smokes.

“Go up,” He repeats, and lets the blackness overtake him.

 

Urie’s never been in total danger of completely losing it on a mission. But he thinks he’s pretty damn close right now.

The building drops for a third time just as he sees Sasaki with something mangled and bloody in his arms sprinting up towards them.

He falters. He almost gags. 

It’s everything he’s had nightmares about. It’s everything Tooru’s always been there to calm him down from. 

He can’t see Tooru’s face but for the closed eyes, the open, bloody mouth- can he even breathe? His arm hangs down, limp, his body curled in Sasaki’s iron grip.

He gets close enough for Sasaki to hand Tooru over, ignoring him when he says, raspy, “Here, take him-” shifting the little body into his arms. He doesn’t stop to breathe his scent, to give him some heartfelt thank you.

Urie doesn’t look back. He takes Tooru and he runs.

 

Saiko hesitates. 

She’s staring at Kaneki. Kaneki stares at her.

“Hello, baby girl.” Kaneki says. The suit guy shoots him a weird look.

She remembers Sasaki as leggy, slim and glowing- pink cheeked and sleep deprived, sweet and smiling. 

She blinks. Kaneki is tall, certainly, taller than Urie- but he seems older. More filled out. Blood on his cheeks instead of in them.

All at once she feels kind of ridiculous in her suit- as if caught playing dress up. Kaneki’s eyes are pitted in a way she’s only seen on bad ghouls.

For a moment she wonders how he sees her- grown up in a pantsuit and scarf like her mother would wear. Hair a different shade. Roots blended to perfection, mussed with grime and rubble. 

“Uh.” She says. She’s imagined this a thousand times, but now that she’s here, that he’s  _ right here… _

“ **SAIKO** !” Urie roars from behind her. Her stomach pits.

Her head whips around. Back again. “Um.” She takes a step back. 

Kaneki nods at her, offering a smile that looks genuine. “It’s okay. Go.”

She takes a step. Looks back. 

“Goodbye,” she says awkwardly, and runs after Urie.

Tsukiyama looks between her back and Kaneki as she goes. “You alright?” 

Kaneki doesn’t turn around for a long moment. Tsukiyama senses his kagune roil, his blood whisper gently. 

Tsukiyama pushes his hair off his forehead. “I… I get it if you’re sentimental, they were practically your kids for a while there…”

Kaneki cracks his neck and turns around, mouth a thin line. “They aren’t kids anymore. Let’s get out of here.”

 

The evac helicopter is hovering 100 feet above the top of the building, lowering as close as it dares to the top. The kids all dangle halfway out, lowering the ladder again. 

Urie drapes Tooru over his front, ignoring the thick smell of blood, clinging instead to the shallow, quick breaths that puff over his face.  _ Keep him breathing. Keep him breathing.  _ Urie clips Tooru’s harness onto his, and looks back for Saiko.

She’s there, clambering through the now-uneven rooftop, heels abandoned, head down. He turns back to the ladder and starts to climb.   
  


In the helicopter, they can take stock of Tooru’s injuries- until he wakes up, spitting teeth, and coughing so violently and unceasingly that Urie can only hold him and pray for it to stop. There’s blood coming out of his mouth with every retch, bright red. 

“Hold him still,” He says hoarsely, tears streaking down his cheeks, and pulls Tooru’s arm until the shoulder clicks into its socket. He doesn’t even stop coughing. 

His hands fly to Tooru’s face, clearing away the blood and tears and gore and-

Pausing- and angling his head and touching his jaw-

“It’s broken.” Hsiao says flatly. 

Urie rips off his gloves and feels intently for the fault in Tooru’s jaw. It clicks and slides wrong under his hands, slippery and mangled. 

Tooru’s face is almost serene under his hands, as gentle as he can be- but it is in no way reassuring. He looks like he could pass out at any second and never wake up again. 

“Radio for a trauma team at the heli pad-” He shouts to Hsiao over the roar or the engine. “We don’t have much time.” He rips off his jacket and lays it over his body, then yells to Hige to grab the oxygen mask and neckbrace off the wall. 

Tooru’s jaw is badly broken- his lips and teeth a few centimeters out of alignment, bruising starting to blot and bleed under his skin when Urie manages to clear away the worst of the fluid. He can’t find the break- but it’s not important. It can wait. Tooru’s collarbone is attempting to heal on its own, one half poking up into the skin, knitting away from its partner. That can wait too. They can rebreak it. 

Urie manages to clear most of his airway. He starts coughing again, hard enough that he vomits, sobs until he passes out again- until Urie’s just holding him down, just holding on. Just doing all he can do in a haze of professionalism and badly handled detachment. 

As they hand Tooru off to the trauma team, as Hige holds him back from running full tilt after the gurney; he realizes that Saiko had been holding Tooru’s hand from the second she’d entered the helicopter until the second they got out.

Urie tips his head back. It’s less of a let-the-wind-whip-through-my-hair moment and more of an active, physical avoidance of the massive bloodstain on his shirt. 

They’re talking, all around him.  _ What do we do now? Back to base? Urie? _

The second he hears his own name, he vomits too, wine and folded roses and blood.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this rip  
> I will most likely make some minor adjustments because I did just want to get the next chapter out as fast as possible and this is super short, but I didn't want to get through the holidays without having given u guys something.

**Author's Note:**

> ask me about my bear crawling and rihanna obsession @kimigross on the terrible blue site


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